


Days

by misslucyjane



Series: In Each Other All Along [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, M/M, Phone Sex, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-07 12:52:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4263918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misslucyjane/pseuds/misslucyjane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Bucky count down the days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Days

**\- 80 days until the music festival -**

"You couldn't go one day without me," Steve said happily.

"You wanted me to call," Bucky replied. "You said I should keep you up late."

Steve rolled onto his back, the phone against his ear. "You should. Absolutely you should. Talk to me."

"Talk _dirty_ to you?" said Bucky, gasping in make-believe shock.

Steve laughed. "If you want."

"I would never _dream_ \-- is your mom in the room?"

"Not even remotely. She's downstairs, the door's shut, and I am five seconds away from taking off my pants." He arched his hips and unzipped his jeans, feeling bold and sexy, even more than he had in Bucky's presence.

Bucky said, "I like where this is going," and Steve heard him get comfortable on his own bed. "Though I should point out that proper phone sex is difficult enough with two hands."

"Put your phone on speaker," Steve said, "or better still, FaceTime so I can see you."

"FaceTime it is."

Steve switched over, and after a moment Bucky's face appeared on the screen. He had set up his phone so he could look into it hands-free and still give Steve a good view of his body. His eyelids were heavy and he slowly licked his lower lip. 

Steve breathed, "Hey, beautiful."

"Hey," said Bucky. He ran his hand slowly over his chest. "Take off your pants."

Steve leaned his phone against his pillow and raised his hips so he could slide his jeans down and off, taking his underpants with them.

Bucky inhaled sharply and whispered, "Oh, Steve."

"Talk," Steve said. He ran his hand over his chest and scratched his nipples with his nails. "Talk dirty to me and I'll do what you say."

"That's a good start, baby. Lick your fingers and play with your nipples. I want them good and hard."

Steve obeyed him. It didn't feel the same as Bucky's tongue, but the sensation of his wet fingertips in addition to the memory of Bucky's mouth on his chest was enough to make him moan. 

Watching him, Bucky moaned too and palmed himself roughly through his jeans. "God, you're so hot, Steve. Turn over. Show me that perfect ass."

Steve turned over and angled the phone over his back. "Like that?"

"Yes, yes. God, I was I was there. I want to get my hands all over that sweet ass, Stevie, I want to eat you out as deep as my tongue will go."

"Bucky," Steve whispered, blushing, though he couldn't stop his hips from rocking.

"Lube up your fingers," Bucky ordered. Steve could see Bucky's hand moving beyond the screen, and he hurriedly got the tube of lubricant from under his pillow and made his fingers slick. 

"How do you want me? On my stomach? On my knees?"

"On your back," said Bucky. "Show me everything."

Steve moved on to his back again and held the phone so Bucky could see his hand on his cock. He stroked himself roughly, pushing up his hips, and let his fingers linger or tighten as Bucky ordered him until they both were moaning and whispering each other's names. 

Bucky came first, with a broken, " _Steve_ ," that made Steve's heart leap and his cock ache, and he goraned as come spurted over his stomach.

They gazed at each other, panting, and Bucky slowly stroked his chest. He said, "The next time we see each other I want to fuck you."

"Okay," Steve said simply and Bucky smiled faintly, like he's expected an argument. "That's something to keep me going."

"It's not too late for you to come along."

"I have six more weeks of school. Where will you be by then?"

"Down under, I think. Too far away from you, anyway." They were both quiet a moment, then Bucky said, "I miss you already. This bed's too big without you."

"That's hard to believe. I'm kind of small."

"You're perfect," Bucky said. "I want to touch you. I wish you were here."

Steve pressed his lips together. "I think if I came to you now I'd never leave."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Bucky," Steve began.

"I'll send the car. I'll come get you myself. Take the rest of the semester off and be with me instead."

"I can't," Steve said. "I can't quit now."

Bucky looked away, his lips pressed together, and then he sighed and said, "I know. It's important. I shouldn't be selfish -- but, God, Steve, it's hard."

"I know. It's not easy for me, either. But it's only a little over eleven weeks until July. Just two and a half months."

"Right," Bucky said. "Only two and a half months." They gazed at each other a few moments more. "I should let you sleep."

"Good night, Bucky. Sleep well," Steve said, and clicked the call off so he wasn't tempted to linger. 

He rolled onto his back and stared at the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling. Two and a half months seemed eternal, no matter how brave a face he put on for Bucky. He had no fears of being tempted by another man himself -- he was no more desirable or attractive now that he wasn't a virgin than he had been while he was one, he thought wryly -- but Bucky was another matter. Everybody wanted Bucky. He was talented and famous, he was sexy and handsome -- there was nothing not to want about him. 

_And he wants you, idiot,_ he thought, and picked up the sketchbook he'd filled with pictures of Bucky and ideas for the web comic. He flipped to the latest rough for the comic and tore out the page, and then opened the sketchbook to a clean page and began to draw.

 

 **\- 74 days until the music festival -**

Steve was still only half-awake when he turned on his computer to check his email -- and then woke up quite quickly when he saw that the fan forum on the Winter Solider website had gone wild during the night, talking about footage of the hometown concerts. Many of the posts had links to Youtube, and Steve clicked on one, though he suspected he knew what he was going to find.

There were plenty of Winter Soldier clips on Youtube. The band had always allowed fans to film them and share what they filmed -- sometimes it was shaky footage and distorted sound, sometimes it was carefully and lovingly shot, like the nearly magical clips of ballads where every audience member had their phones or lighters held high.

But what had caused the forums to light up were clips from the night Bucky had performed shirtless, something he had never done before. Fans near the stage had caught all of the scars along his shoulder and chest -- but their cameras didn't ignore his sinuous waist or the way he moved, the utter ease with which he commanded the stage. Sweat poured down his skin, his jewelry glinted, and whenever he glanced to the side Steve knew Bucky had been looking for him.

The comments on the forums were supportive. "He's so sexy and so brave!" "I wish I'd seen this in person!" "I want to hug him for this. I love that he doesn't hide it." "Just when I thought I couldn't love Bucky more, he goes and takes this step. He's my hero all over again." If anyone thought he shouldn't have done it, they weren't going to say so here.

Steve sent a text to Bucky: _I've rediscovered today that I have the hottest boyfriend in all the world. Miss you._

Bucky's response didn't come until that night, but Steve didn't mind. _No, I have the hottest boyfriend in all the world. Miss you too. Are you still awake?_

 _I am,_ Steve replied, and laughed out loud when his phone rang.

 

**\- 69 days until the music festival -**

"I see you finished the comic," was how Bucky opened the call.

"I did," Steve said. "What did you think?"

"You were very kind. Maybe a little too kind."

"You're hot," Steve said. "I'm just being honest about that."

"And you're very honest."

Steve sighed and rubbed his face. "It's a diary comic," he said. "Of course I'm honest."

"'Recently I spent the weekend with my favorite band,'" Bucky read out loud. "'A lot of things happened that I'm not going to go into for various reasons, but I will say this: Bucky Barnes is perfect.' Perfect, huh?"

"Perfect," Steve said. "Are you mad at me? I can't tell."

"I'm not mad," Bucky said. "I'm... nonplussed, I guess. I don't quite get the metaphor you've got going here."

Steve opened his sketchbook to the rough draft of the comic, which he had scanned once it was finished, and cleaned up and colored digitally so he could post it to his website. The first few panels were straight-forward: winning the contest, seeing the show backstage, talking to the band at the meet-and-greet, going to the after-party.

After that, he'd compared spending the night with Bucky to the first time he went to an art museum as a kid, when things had just clicked into place. 'I felt like my eyes were opened at last,' he'd written as the caption for a panel of tiny eight-year-old Steve standing in front of a painting, agog because of the colors and the depths.

"I'm trying to say," Steve said slowly, "that sex with you was educational, but it was more than that. It was like realizing how much I'd missed because I just hadn't been looking. It's like -- okay. What did it feel like the first time you picked up an instrument?"

"Like the world made sense," Bucky said.

"It was like that. Like the world made sense. Not just because I finally knew for sure that yes, I'm gay, I like cock, but that I'm more than just little Stevie Rogers with the asthma and weak stomach."

"Of course you are," Bucky said. "You're an artist. You didn't need to have sex to know that."

"And I do know that. But it's more than that, too. Being wanted, being desired -- that's never happened to me before, Bucky. Nobody's ever looked at me the way you do. I feel like I could move mountains just from the way that makes me feel."

Bucky was quiet for a moment. "I think I get it now."

"I hope my readers do, too."

"You're a lot more...eloquent on the phone, have you noticed that?"

"I guess it's easier to talk to you when you're not in the same room. When you are, I just want to get my tongue in your mouth."

Bucky chuckled. "That's a good place for it. Anyway, I looked at more of the comic, too. I read all the way back to last year."

"Oh, boy," Steve said and covered his face again. "It's just a chronicle of illnesses for a while."

"I noticed. You sure you don't want me to help you with your medical bills?"

"It's not your job to pay my expenses, Bucky."

"True, it isn't. But I'm still offering. I want to help you, Steve."

"The best thing you can do to help me is come back to me," Steve said, and then shut his mouth, blushing. 

"Seventy-four days," Bucky said quietly. "I've got an app on my phone to count it down: 'Days until I see Steve again.'"

"I've got that, too." He whispered, "I miss you so much."

"I miss you too." They listened to each other breathe, and then Bucky said, "Up for a little fooling around?"

"Yes," Steve said and heard Bucky laugh as he put his phone down so he could take off his shirt.

 

**\- 52 days until the music festival -**

"That's what a lot of critics don't seem to get," Bucky said. "Thor's not, like, just some classical prodigy slumming it in a rock band. He's incredibly educated in how music works and how it's made, but that's not the only reason why he's so good. He's good because he's passionate."

"But he is a classically-educated musician," Steve said. "I think that's the reviewer's point, not that he's slumming. A lot of pop singers are trained in opera -- it's the same thing, knowing how to use your instrument and keep it strong for years so they don't lose their voices by the time they're forty." He moved onto his stomach, his pillow bunched under his chest. "How did you meet him? I don't think you've ever said in an interview, and I know he didn't go to our school."

Bucky paused, then said as if he was resigned to talking about it, "I dated his brother. Loki."

"You dated his brother," Steve repeated.

"We used to hang out at the same music store. Loki's a musician, too, only he is a classically-educated musician who actually went into classical music. He plays violin for some symphony in California now."

"But you dated."

"In high school," Bucky said. "We met, we dated, he was the reason I came out to my parents, and he's the person I was going to see when I crashed the car."

"Oh," Steve said softly.

"Yeah. And when he came to see me in the hospital, he brought Thor, and Thor and I really hit it off so when I decided to go ahead with the band he was the first person I asked to join it. Natasha was just -- automatic. She was my best friend and always would be, so of course she was in my band." He paused again, his eyes thoughtful, and said, "Loki blamed himself for years for the accident. He said if I hadn't come out, if I hadn't been trying so hard to keep up with him, I'd still have two arms. But the thing is, I've never looked at it as trying to keep up with him. I wanted to tell my parents for months. Being in love with Loki just gave me a reason." He looked at Steve. "Want to know the only thing I remember about the accident?"

"I thought you didn't remember anything."

"I remember bits and pieces as time goes on. I remember opening my eyes and looking across the road, and I could see the deer I'd hit and the door that had been torn off, and my hand was still holding the handle. And I remember thinking, 'How funny, that doesn't belong there,' before I passed out again."

Steve nodded again, slowly, and then said, "I think I'm still trying to cope with the fact that you lost your virginity to a guy named Loki."

Bucky burst out laughing.

 

**\- 40 days until the Festival -**

Q: It's no secret in the music industry that you being openly gay has led to some issues for the band.

A: More external issues than internal ones. Protestors come to the concerts sometimes, and so we pay a little extra for security. I've gotten death threats, and so the label hired a bodyguard for me. Other than that, we don't let it change the way we live. 

Q: With all the trouble, though, do you ever wish you had stayed in the closet?

A: Never. I refuse to live my life in fear. It'd just make me a hypocrite if I did, given the message we're trying to convey. We want to be a safe space for everybody who's ever felt rejected or forced to live a lie for their own safety.

Q: You know the pain of rejection by your family, better than a lot of people who talk about LGBT issues. 

A: I've said everything I have to say about that.

Q: Who creates safe spaces for you?

A: My band. My friends. My boyfriend.

Q: This is new. You're dating?

A: I don't want to say much about him out of respect for his privacy. But I will say when I'm around him I'm like a kid with a crush -- you know, whenever I'm around him all I can think is, 'I like you so much! I like you so much!' It's ridiculous. I haven't been this happy for years.

Q: Is he the same way around you?

A: Yeah, I think so. He kind of likes me too.

\-- "Bucky Barnes: 'I haven't been this happy for years.' The Winter Soldier front man on being a gay icon, the future of Winter Soldier, and new developments in his personal life."

 

**\- 35 days until the music festival -**

Steve had gotten into the habit of checking Youtube for new clips every day. Bucky told him if something special happened at a concert, but Bucky's definition of special and fans' definitions were seldom the same thing. Bucky winking at a camera could cause hundreds of likes; Bucky pulling a fan onto the stage for a hug or a dance would cause thousands. 

Steve loved them. He would pause a video on a particularly good frame and draw it, and send the scan to Bucky for him to enjoy, too. They still talked every night but it was another way to soothe how much he missed him; he loved to focus on Bucky's body, to get his smile just right or recreate that perfect dip of his waist.

On this night, as he got onto youtube and did his usual search, one clip was titled WINTER SOLDIER NEW SONG, and he clicked on it, hoping it was a performance of "Cathedral" at last.

"We've got a new song for you tonight," Bucky said, and Clint played a sliding upward scale to draw attention to that fact. "This is the first time we've performed it live, in fact, so it might be a little rough. In fact, my bandmates are being highly indulgent of me tonight--" He bowed to them and they laughed or blew kisses in return, "Because they know the guy this is about, and, uh, yeah. Let's play the song."

Natasha began the beat and Thor picked it up on the bass, and Bucky began to dance, his hips moving and his face taking on an expression of pure bliss.

Steve's mouth dropped open as Bucky began to sing. He knew Bucky had written songs about him but he'd never thought they were be like this, just so -- dirty. Filthy, even, as Bucky sang about his body, the taste of him -- and the chorus was merely a grunt, " _Come._ "

"Jesus, Bucky," Steve whispered and grabbed his phone. He called Bucky's number, not caring what time it was, and said when Bucky picked up, "So I've just heard your newest song."

"Which one?" Bucky said.

Steve held the phone to his computer's speakers for a few bars, then said to Bucky, "That one."

"Oh," Bucky said. "Um. You like it?"

"I don't know," Steve said. "I mean, it's sexy as hell -- but it's, like, I don't know, something by Prince or something."

"I may have been a little influenced by Prince, yeah," Bucky said thoughtfully. "You can't beat 'Little Red Corvette.'"

"What is it even called? Because from here it sounds like it's called 'Come.'"

"It is called 'Come.'"

"Oh my God," Steve said and dropped his face into his hands. "There's a song out there about me called 'Come.' I'm blushing just thinking about it."

"You're cute when you blush."

Steve raised his head. "Did you write that just to make me blush?"

"No," Bucky said. "I wrote it because I miss you and I miss your body and it's going to be a month until I see you again, and I had to get it out." He paused. "Are you upset with me?"

"No," Steve said. "I'm -- I think I'm flattered. I also think if anyone who knew me heard this song they would never guess it's about me."

"If anyone who knew you and knew what you mean to me heard it, they'd know. The band is calling it 'Steve's Fuck song.'"

"Oh my God," said Steve again and curled his arm over his face as Bucky said, " Steve, c'mon, don't hide your face, honey. Aw, Steve."

 

**\- 12 days until the music festival -**

Lately when Bucky called, or when Steve called Bucky, they would switch to FaceTime as soon as possible so they could see each other. Sometimes Steve thought he might forget the exact shade of blue in Bucky's eyes if it weren't for these nightly calls, that he might misremember the shape of Bucky's mouth and the redness of his lips. Of course he had pictures, he had pictures on his wall and in his phone, but it wasn't the same as seeing Bucky's sleepy, happy face on the little screen of his phone or the bigger screen of his computer if they decided to use Skype.

So when Bucky called on the regular phone, Steve said, "I'm switching over now," and Bucky said, "Don't," Steve paused and frowned.

"Why not?"

"I'm... not looking my best right now."

"You're sweaty and your eyeliner's smudged? You know I actually like that."

"Just not tonight, Steve, okay?"

Steve's thumb paused over the button. He said, "Bucky. What's wrong?"

Bucky sighed. He said, "Hold on," and switched on FaceTime, and Steve couldn't hold back his gasp. Bucky had a black eye, purple and swollen, and from the look of the bruising it was just a few hours old. 

"Oh, my God," Steve whispered. "Who hit you?"

"Nobody. Don't worry about it."

"Of course I'm going to worry about it!" Steve shouted. "Like hell you did that to yourself! I'm calling Happy -- if he let someone get to you--"

"It was an accident. It's nothing. Can we please talk about something else? Anything else?"

Steve frowned. "Just an accident, huh?"

"Yeah. It's nothing. Stupid accident. I'm fine. Tell me about what you're working on, Steve, I'd rather talk about that."

"And if I call Clint or Thor they'll tell me about what happened? They'll tell me the story of how you gave yourself a truly spectacular shiner?" Bucky sighed and closed his eyes, and Steve said, "My mom's a nurse, Bucky. I know how injuries happen. Don't lie to me. Tell me who got to you. Or did you go into a mosh pit? There was nothing about that on the fan forum tonight--"

"Nobody got to me. Look, it's just -- it's a thing that happened, it's over, and I really just want to talk to you, okay? I need you to make me feel better, Stevie, please. I don't want to talk about this. I want to talk about something beautiful."

Steve continued frowning, his throat feeling tight. He whispered, "What aren't you telling me?"

"There's lots of shit I don't tell you."

Steve's eyes welled. He looked away and wiped them roughly with the heel of his hand. "If someone's hurting you, why would you keep it from me?"

"I don't want that ugliness to ever touch you. You're my peaceful place, Steve, you're my haven. Don't take that away from me. Please," he whispered when Steve didn't speak. "Please, Steve."

Steve said, "If someone's hurting you I'm morally obligated to go after them."

"Steve," Bucky said with a sigh. "Look. I'll be there in two weeks. I'll explain it then. For now, just, just, just let it go."

"How can I? I thought you trusted me."

"I do trust you! More than just about anyone. This--" He gestured to his black eye. "This is just something stupid. I'll take care of it. It's not for you to worry about."

Steve looked at him, his injured face breaking Steve's heart with every beat, and he said, "I'm not in the mood to fool around."

"That's fine. I don't care. I'm really not in the mood either. I've just missed you so much."

"I miss you too," Steve whispered and curled onto his side, the phone propped against his pillow. "I think I've forgotten what you smell like. Is it really only two weeks?"

"Less than that," Bucky said, and got comfortable too. "We'll be in the same room. In the same bed." He paused. "Will you be my shield when we're together again?"

It was a strange question, but Steve answered without hesitating: "I'll be anything you need me to be."

 

**\- 1 day until the music festival -**

The phone rang from Bucky's number, and Steve snatched it up eagerly. "Bucky?"

"Uh," said another voice which Steve recognized even though he hadn't heard it for months. "It's actually Happy Hogan, Bucky's bodyguard."

"Hi, Mr. Hogan," Steve said and sat on his bed, worried that his knees might give out if he didn't. "Is Bucky okay?"

"He's not," Happy said. "I'd like to come get you. I think you're the only one who'll be able to calm him down."

Steve swallowed and whispered, "Okay, I'll be ready," and hung up, feeling numb. He'd been looking forward to seeing Bucky for months and now for something to be wrong with Bucky -- but if it were something fatal it would have been on the news, Happy would have said so, maybe Bucky was just depressed and wanted him --

He changed his clothes and packed his map case with his inhaler and his sketchbook, and went downstairs to wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Cliffhanger! Yeah, I know, you hate me now. Edited to add: But please stop telling me you hate me. I don't need that.
> 
> Note as of Dec 24, 2015: If you subscribe to this series you may have gotten a notice that Chapter 1 of part 4 was uploaded. It has since been deleted. I don't know when I'm going to continue.


End file.
